


Jeremy

by LaSordide



Series: Lonely Highway [3]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Angsty Schmoop, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-25
Updated: 2012-10-25
Packaged: 2017-11-17 01:07:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/545838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaSordide/pseuds/LaSordide
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur runs into his ex. Angsty fluff, I guess. Oh look - there's an actual tag for that.</p><p>Also in the same arc as The Charm of the Highway Strip and Transformer. Takes place maybe six weeks after Transformer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jeremy

1.

They’re in Arthur’s old stomping ground, in the Tenderloin neighborhood of San Francisco, away from the home they’ve made together in L.A., when it happens. Eames is strolling out of the café with a latte and a scone in hand one moment, then slowing to a halt almost immediately when he spies Arthur, back turned, about a hundred feet away, talking to a man with a Boxer dog on the sidewalk.

The man – same height as Arthur, maybe slightly older than Eames, nicely built and in a dark grey v-neck t-shirt that shows off his thick, veiny forearms, a three-quarter sleeve tattoo down one arm and a half-sleeve down the other, the fit of his jeans hinting at powerful thighs - has an alarmingly tender and apprehensive look on his face as he stares at Arthur. He’s unconventionally attractive, perhaps, in the way Eames thinks white Americans sometimes are – a little _too much_ German peasant in the genetic background – but has a kind face, and appears to be listening to Arthur intently.

What’s causing Eames the most trepidation about the whole scene, however, is the dog.

The dog is staring up at Arthur with an emotion akin to pure glee across her face as he pets her head occasionally, her docked tail wagging spastically and her ears perked as she heels beside her master, obviously barely able to contain her happiness at seeing him.

The dog knows Arthur. And Eames realizes he knows the man. This is Arthur’s Jeremy.

Eames tries to hang back, make himself invisible the way he can when they’re under for a job, but – it’s 9 AM on a Saturday morning in the Tenderloin. There’s no one else around, all the hipsters are still tucked in their beds after a late night of seeing Girls or Wavves, Rocky Rivera. Whatever it is they listen to.

Jeremy nods again at something Arthur’s said, brushes a nervous hand through his choppy, reddish-brown hair, and then his eyes flick up to where Eames is standing. They’re blue, dark blue, like denim. They narrow when they land on Eames, then glance back several times between him and Arthur. Putting two-and-two together, then.

Arthur senses his ex’s suddenly divided attention and looks behind him, waves Eames over. _Fuck_. Jeremy is eyeing him warily now, and Eames puts on the friendliest, most blankly non-territorial face he can muster as he approaches them.

He hears Arthur introducing him, “This is my partner, Tom Eames. Eames, this is –“

“You must be Jeremy,” Eames says, thrusting his hand out for a shake, giving a smile that Jeremy instantly, unconsciously returns. _Good manners_ , Eames observes. _Firm shake, but not intended to dominate_. “I’ve heard lovely things about you.”

“Oh. Ok,” Jeremy says, nodding, “thanks.”

There’s an awkward pause and then he adds, “Arthur and I kind of haven’t talked in a little while, so – I’m sorry, I haven’t - I didn’t know about you. How long have you been together?”

“About six months,” Eames answers, feeling Arthur’s edgy energy next to him as he pets the dog, his attention clearly still focused on this conversation Eames is having with his ex. Eames can’t help but notice Jeremy’s face drop a little.

“Wow,” he says. “Wow, that’s – six months. That’s… terrific.” He forces a smile at Eames and looks down at Arthur squatting next to their dog. “So. Well. I should finish up with Beatrice’s walk, here.”

Arthur rises and pets the dog’s face on last time. “It was really nice to run into you,” he says. They don’t touch.

“Likewise, likewise,” Jeremy replies. “Tom, pleasure to meet you.” He shakes Eames’ hand again and Eames watches as he walks away, back up Ellis, makes a right on Leavenworth, and is out of sight.

He eyes Arthur, who’s just let out a deep breath Eames bets he didn’t know he was holding.

“All right there?” he asks quietly.

“Fine,” Arthur replies blankly. “I’m fine.”

 

2.

They don’t talk about him at first. But Arthur remains distinctly pensive and moody for the rest of the morning, so Eames finally says to him, “You look worried, Arthur.”

Arthur shrugs. They’re in the middle of a bustling burrito joint on Divisadero for lunch, but he’s barely said a word.

“I feel badly,” he tells Eames, who doesn’t know the whole story, but knows enough to fill in some of the blanks.

“Because he’s not over you, you mean. And because you found someone else.”

Arthur nods. “The last time we talked was maybe a month before you and I got together, actually. He told me he wasn’t with anybody, that he still loved me.”

“Ah,” Eames says. Arthur looks up at him and frowns.

“I started seeing him right after the Fischer job,” Arthur continues. “Right after a year and a half of running around the globe with Cobb, terrified, someone always on our heels. And he was so sweet to me, Eames. Such a fundamentally good guy that – I couldn’t resist, really. I wanted something for my own, I guess.”

“What’s so wrong with that?” Eames takes his hand across the little table.

“I was only 27, you know? He was the first taste of stability outside of the Army, of kindness, I’d had in a long time, and that was so nice, but – I didn’t know what to do with it, really. He’s ten years older than me, he’s a got his tattoo shop here, he’s very successful. He wanted to settle down, stay here in San Francisco, maybe have a kid – not have a partner who was taking off every two weeks to Bangkok or Lima and coming back stitched up or bruised twenty percent of the time,” Arthur swallows nervously. “We got as far as six months together, getting Beatrice, and me moving in with him for the last two months, before it all went to shit.” He pauses, doesn’t elaborate.

“He fell so hard for me, Eames, and – I just didn’t know how to slow down yet. And I broke his heart, and it looks like it’s still broken three years later. I wish I could do something for him, but. You can’t fix that.”

Eames drags his chair closer to Arthur’s and put his hand on his mid back, rubs in small, soothing circles. “No. No, you can’t fix that,” he says sadly. “But time and distance will help him. And when he’s ready, he’ll move on. He’s a catch –“

“You noticed,” Arthur interrupts. Eames ignores him.

“- in one of the gayest cities on the planet. He’ll love again.”

“Yeah,” Arthur nods. He pushes himself away from the table. “Ready?”

Eames nods.

The day’s taken a turn for the misty as they leave the restaurant and start walking slowly in the vague direction of their hotel. Eames puts his arm around Arthur’s waist and smiles to himself.

“What?” Arthur says.

“Nothing.”

“Eames. What?”

“I’m sorry Jeremy got hurt,” he says. Guilt flashes across Arthur’s features again. “He seems like a good man. But – I’m so glad I get to have you.”

Arthur pulls him into a hug and Eames says into his hair, “Unless six months is some kind of hard limit for you and relationships. In which case I guess I’m fucked.”

Arthur huffs a laugh into Eames’ neck and looks at him steadily in the eyes, says, “Nah. Nah, I knew what I was getting myself into this time around.” He cups Eames’ shoulder, his chin, strokes his cheekbone, says, “I’m not going anywhere.”


End file.
